By Oliver Plaice, www.PoetryPoem.com/oliverspoems Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
Bent over like leaning trees
with lines that run like rivers
these creatures surround me this week
their aching bones echoing every porthole
And yet at feeding time. A change becomes.
the camouflage comes off. They take on a guise.
queuing as if there's no tomorrows. To eat as much today.
filling their already fat and full bellies. So they bulge more
These people are like fodder to the slaughterhouse
with a ritual of daily feeding. Snacking, dinner more snacks.
The older generation have gone food crazy for some reason
Bring back My Generation. At least all we did was Rock!
Written 24 October 2015
By B R Walker
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